A/N: Here's chapter 4! Enjoy

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin

Chapter 4

Over the week before the attack, I got to know all of my troops rather well and this pleased me. I had kind of taken Robert Clarke under my wing as he was only 15 but had signed up anyway. (I did not mind how old they were because it showed how much they wanted to fight for what was right. I still regret letting them go into battle though) But the day was here. Arthur had called us together, Captains Hudson, Morhange, Smith and me, and told us that we would advance at 10 hours. It was now five to ten and my troops were lined up behind me, prepared for battle. I nodded to Joe who was stood about 10 feet away in front of his troops.

"Ready?" he mouthed. I just nodded and loaded my gun. Watching the seconds tick away, I clenched my fist and raised it above my head. Ten o'clock came and I yelled,

"ATTACK!" My troops mingled with Joe's as we charged over the top. I scurried forwards, luckily dodging the bullets which fell so many other men. Opening fire, I roared like Athiusa and watched without pleasure as the troops stopped firing. After that, it all became a blur, a blur of yelling and firing and screaming. A blur of death and pain until we had taken about 14 feet and Arthur called for us to cease firing, to find those who may still live.(Arthur, as a General, had not taken part in the attack and for that I was grateful.) I checked all of the bodies nearest to me and my heart rose to my mouth as I saw Elyan lying in a pool of his own blood. Rushing over, I turned him so I could see his face but I was too late. The bullet had gone straight through his heart and his dark brown eyes were glassy and unseeing. I thought of his mother and father back home, which would get a letter in a month or so telling them the news and of his sister Gwen that he had spoken so highly of. (I did not know that Guinevere had been reincarnated.) Slowly, sorrowfully, I closed his eyes and moved on. Nearby, lay a dark-haired man whose breathing was haggard but still existent. I knew what a death rattle sounded like and if that wasn't one, then I was a king. I hurried over and turned him on to his back. It was Lancelot.

"Lancelot," I breathed. "Hold on. Please." Lancelot smiled slightly and gasped,

"Merlin… you know, I can't." I grasped his hand.

"Come on, Lance! You can't die on me. Not again…"

"Merlin. Save, Arthur." Lancelot's breathing worsened. "And thank you… for all the memories."

"No. Don't you dare-" I began but Lancelot smiled one last time and fell still. I screwed my eyes shut and shook with silent sobs as Lancelot lay dead in the ground at my feet.

"No. No. Please," I wept and everything went blurry. Feeling a pair of strong hands on my shoulders, I curled into the man who stood above me. I felt the hands lift me up and I allowed the welcoming blackness to take me from my sorrow.

I woke up in my bunker. Confused, I sat up to quickly and the room span.

"Shhh. Lie back," came a familiar deep voice. Doing as per instruction, I blinked repetitively to clear my vision of the black spots. Percival sat next to me and behind him, with his back to me, stood Arthur. He turned on his heel, nodded to Percival and held my gaze for a second before disappearing out of the room. I looked questioningly at Percival, who sighed deeply.

"The General carried you from the battlefield after you… broke down, sir. You've been out for 6 hours and General Pendragon has not left this room. The men are unsure what to think, sir."

"He hasn't left?" I asked, disbelieving.

"No sir."

"I told you, stop calling me sir," I said absentmindedly. "Who is dead? How many from our troops?"

"Just ten. Jack Spark, Harry Carter, Kevin Holmes, George Potter, John Smith, Liam O' Brian, Tom Beaumont, James Roberts… Elyan and Lancelot," Percival's voice tailed off at the end as he remembered his dead comrades and friends. I nodded and raised my hand to my head. Breathing slowly, I fought back the tears and swung my legs round. I stood but I stumbled and Percival caught me.

"Gather the troops." He left with one last salute. I followed him out and went to the most open area where I addressed my troops. Shaking slightly, I viewed them mercifully. Many of them had been crying but now they held their heads high and put on brave faces.

"We all die in the end," I began. "You, me, everyone. But we must not despair. Yes, we lost Lancelot today. And Elyan, Harry, Jack, John, Liam… but they're still with us! In here!" I indicated my heart. "Because we'll remember them! And if we get out of this horrible mess, we'll tell our children and our grandchildren what they died for. They died fighting! For the King! For the Country! For freedom!"

Again, my troops echoed me, albeit more subdued. As I walked off, a phrase popped into my head.

"Ducle et decorum est pro patri mori. It is sweet and fitting to die for your country."